


A-B-C-D-E-F-G

by purecamp



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: DEAD GIRLS NEVER SAY OUJIA BOARD OUJIA BOARD, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-20
Updated: 2017-10-20
Packaged: 2019-01-20 10:22:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12430788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purecamp/pseuds/purecamp
Summary: alaska goes to her friend willam’s house for what she thinks is a halloween party. to her surprise, the “party” is more of a seance to chat with a guest who turns out to have more than a little bit of affection for one of the players.





	A-B-C-D-E-F-G

**Author's Note:**

> a/n - hi everyone! now, if anyone’s wondering, i promise promise promise i am working on jttou and hoping to get it done soon (im almost there!) However, with the house move happening soon its becoming a bit tough. if it’ll tide u over, here’s a l o o o n g oneshot i wrote this entire evening!! <3
> 
> *tw for car crash mentions/description*
> 
> ^^ this is the artificialqueens a/n that i wrote at the time. this was written and posted aug 8th 2017

It was a bad idea.

In fact, it was such a bad idea that Alaska nearly felt sick. Why, why did Willam want to play with things she knew nothing about? It was dangerous, it felt wrong. No matter how many times she whispered ‘spirits aren’t real, spirits aren’t real, spirits aren’t real’ in her head, it still wasn’t enough.

What Alaska had been told she was attending was a Halloween party like any other. Music, she was told. Dancing. No bobbing for apples, because that would ruin everyone’s makeup. No pumpkin carving either – there would be pumpkins as decorations, but pumpkins smelled gross, and there was no way Willam’s house was going to smell gross. Pre-made ones were fine, and didn’t smell like weird earthly fruits. It was going to be fun!

So Alaska, under Willam’s ‘Halloween Party’ guise, had dressed up. Little blue dress, knee-high socks, apron, headband. Alice in Wonderland was an easy one to replicate, and at least it meant that Alaska could get away with doing pretty makeup rather than transforming herself into a zombie. She wasn’t interested in the inevitable green and black fallout that would end up everywhere in her bedroom and on her clothes from a look like that.

A Halloween party. Only, Willam had lied. When Alaska drew up at the house, she noticed a few suspicious things.

First, there were no decorations. None of the promised pumpkins, no lawn spiders or strings of ghostly lights; hell, there wasn’t even any paper skeletons hanging limply from the large tree in the front yard. The house was totally bare. Even the lights inside appeared to be off, other than one right at the top.

Secondly, there was no music. A Willam Belli party was the kind of party where you could hear the thumping of the music before you were even on her street, and usually ended in an angry cop or a neighbour pummelling on the door asking them to kindly shut the fuck up. Alaska bit her lip as she parked outside the house, noting the silence. No music. No decorations.

This was the right address, she knew it. Nevertheless, she pressed on. Alaska had always known Willam was a bit weird. Still, she was loud and most importantly she was popular, and she had taken Alaska under her wing – whether she wanted to be taken or not – when she first joined. Trembling and scared, Willam had spotted the skinny blonde at the front steps of the school and decided she would belong to her little clique, and that was pretty much that.

But she was nice, so that was okay with Alaska. Strange, yes. Quirky, definitely. Ear-splittingly loud, well. That was a given. Good fun and good-hearted, that was what Alaska focused on.

So she’d knocked on the door. Outside, the chill had caused goosebumps to arise along the pale flesh of her exposed arms and thighs. She stood and shivered, waiting for someone to let her in, hoping the party hadn’t been abandoned after all. Maybe it hadn’t started yet? Then again, it was coming up to midnight. Willam’s parties were in full-swing by then, with no intention of stopping.

“ALASKA!” Came Willam’s drunken yell, the girl thrusting the door open and pulling her into a sloppy, one-armed hug. Clearly, she was dressed as a nurse, although Alaska was fairly sure it would be nearly impossible for a medical professional to go about her day in a dress that just barely covered her thong and didn’t even try covering her bra. A bottle of Maker’s Mark was clutched in one of her manicured hands, and she’d gestured Alaska upstairs with a whispered, “Come on! We’ve been waiting!”

Alaska had frowned then, but allowed a tipsy Willam to drag her up the stairs. There seemed to be hundreds of them, the walls lined with pictures of Willam ranged from practically newborn up until now. The aforementioned girl was tottering in her huge heels, but kept her balance as they climbed past all the bedrooms – which were in darkness – and into the only lit room, the attic.

It was there that Alaska had been met with a pity of a party. There were bottles of alcohol here and there, a bowl of half-eaten Doritos and some cans of Redbull, and that was it. Courtney was flopped over a chair, clearly bored out of her mind, trying to toss pieces of salted popcorn into Adore’s awaiting mouth. Alyssa was sat in a corner, a Redbull gripped with her long pink nails, leaning against an irritated looking Bianca. Detox and Roxxxy didn’t seem particularly entertained either.

“Hey bitches, Alaska’s here so we can start now!” Willam announced.

Courtney tossed her head back and groaned. “Start what?! I was told we were having a party!”

A mumble of agreement swept through the small attic, at which Willam scoffed and waved them all away. “No, listen. I said that so you’d actually come. This is better than a Halloween party.”

Her eyes shone as she clasped her fingers together. “Cut a long story short, I found a new toy I wanna play with and y’all are gonna join me.”

The assembled group remained silent as they watched Willam unearthing her new “toy”. Of course, none of them were going to leave – you didn’t just walk out of Willam Belli’s house, but they still regarded her with some scrutiny. Her tone made Alaska nervous.

“Here she is!”

In one smooth, grand flourish, Willam lifted up what appeared to be a wooden slab, pulling a sheet of fabric off it to reveal it. Had a pin dropped in that room, everyone would’ve heard it. No one reacted, confused as to what was being held in front of them.

“Uh… Willam?” Courtney tried. “What… is that?”

Willam rolled her eyes. “Duh!” She explained, flipping it so everyone could see better. “Ouija board! Come on, come sit over here in a circle. This is going to be fun, I promise.”

Reluctantly, the group began to move, shuffling to sit where Willam was pointing. Alaska hung back, nerves beginning to settle in. She knew that ghosts and spirits weren’t real… kinda. There was always half of her that argued back, saying that there was no conclusive proof either way. Did they exist? Didn’t they? Either way, it seemed like a bad idea to be tampering with them. This wasn’t the first time a group of teenagers who had been drinking had messed with Ouija boards, and it never seemed to end well.

“Alaska, you coming? Don’t be a buzzkill, we need you too!” Willam told her.

It was a bad idea.

In fact, it was such a bad idea that Alaska nearly felt sick. Why, why did Willam want to play with things she knew nothing about? It was dangerous, it felt wrong. No matter how many times she whispered ‘spirits aren’t real, spirits aren’t real, spirits aren’t real’ in her head, it still wasn’t enough.

She blanched. “S-Sure. Yeah. Okay.”

Kneeling, she took her place within the circle, her eyes glued to the board in front of them. The wood was faded slightly, blackened with age, and a few deep scratches adorned one edge. However, the paint was still immaculate. Each letter and number was still perfectly preserved, pristine and painted with extreme care. Alaska’s eyes roamed over it, a mixture of enthralled and terrified. It was beautiful, but it was scary to behold.

“Lights out.”

Willam clapped her hands to turn the lights off, casting the room into nothing but candlelight. She’d gone to the effort of placing four candles in each corner surrounding the board, causing ghostly shadows to flicker across the room.

Alyssa shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t know about this…” She spoke out loud. “I don’t think we should be messing with no demons… awakening no spirits, talking to the ungodly and the unnatural…”

“Alyssa, come on!” Willam pleaded. “It’s just for fun. If they seem evil we’ll stop. It’ll be cool!”

“I don’t know girl… I’m out.” Alyssa relented, taking a sip of her Redbull as she stood up. Happily sated that she had the compliance of the rest of the group, Willam sat up on her heels, regarding the group with serious eyes.

“Welcome to tonight’s séance, ladies and gentlemen –”

Courtney cut in. “There are only ladies here tonight.”

Willam stared pointedly at her, before coughing loudly and resuming. “Welcome to tonight’s séance, ladies. We will be attempting to contact a spirit in this session.”

It was eerie, seeing Willam so serious. Although, Alaska reasoned, the dark shadows cast by the candlelight could make anything eerie. Nondescript boxes in the corner of the room had become leering beasts. Branches and twigs from the tree outside the window had become gnarled witch fingers. An owl flying past was now a bat, ready to tangle in Alaska’s hair and cause her bad luck.

Maybe she’d mixed up her wives tales. But one thing she did know is that she didn’t like this one bit.

“Alaska, you can be the medium.”

The words took Alaska by surprise, so much so that she almost leaned her hair right into the candle beside her. “W-What? I’m the huh?! You want me to – to –”

Willam silenced her with a wave of her hand. “You’re scared. So you should talk to it. All you have to do is ask it what we want to know. You’re the speaker.”

There was no arguing. Per Willam’s instruction, each of the group laid their index and middle fingers on the planchette, letting it rest on the letter ‘G’.

“Go.” Willam whispered.

Alaska’s heart thudded. They shouldn’t be toying with the supernatural.

“Is – is there anyone present who would like to speak with us?”

A beat of silence followed. No one breathed.

“This isn’t gonna work.” Bianca scoffed. “I told you, Queen B, I told you it wouldn’t.”

Bianca’s loud dulcet tones were music to Alaska’s ears. She was always the voice of reason, and if she said it then it had to be true. Nothing would happen. At the head of the board, Willam visibly deflated, her brows furrowing. In a way, Alaska felt a little bit bad for her. She had seemed so excited about playing with this board, and even though Alaska didn’t want to, the disappointment on her face was sort of sad. Courtney opened her mouth to speak.

The planchette moved to ‘Yes’.

“Don’t scream!” Alaska cried suddenly, clapping her hand over Courtney’s mouth. Everyone was breathing heavily, their eyes wide and illuminated with fear. “L-Look – if there’s someone here, screaming could make them angry. Let’s – let’s be nice to it.”

“Are you an evil spirit?” Alaska tried, biting her lip.

The planchette moved again.

“M-A-Y-B-E.” Adore spelled out, sounding a little like a nursery child learning how to speak the alphabet. “Maybe!”

Bianca pulled a face. “Maybe? No straight answer? It doesn’t know? Is this bitch bipolar or something?”

The planchette moved to ‘No’. Bianca looked a little surprised, but she hid it well. Her exaggerated eye-makeup – that heavy white fringed with thick black – helped to conceal it pretty well. The extremity of it hid any surprise in her eyes behind the huge lashes.

“Are you dead?” Courtney piped up, her voice shaking. Alaska used her free hand to rub Courtney’s back, aware that the Australian was just as afraid as she was.

“D-U-H.” Adore read out again. “Courm, it thinks you’re stupid.”

“S-H-E.” Willam added, watching the planchette move yet again. “Adore. Not ‘it’, ‘she’. The spirit must be a girl.”

Alaska shivered. This was real. Whilst other kids their age were out partying, getting drunk, and eating far too much candy than would ever be healthy or recommended by a dentist, they were crouched in Willam’s attic, talking to a spirit who had declared herself a girl and veritably spooked them all.

“So, Miss Thing.” Willam spoke. “Got a name?”

The planchette settled on ‘Yes’.

Bianca rolled her eyes, the signature look she pulled off so well. “Are you a pedantic fuck, or just an idiot? She wasn’t actually asking if you have a name.”

Alaska hurriedly shut her up, a tingle running down her spine. Why were they so comfortable mocking it – her? At the end of the day, this was a spirit they had contacted through a Ouija board. The novelty may have worn off for them, but that was exactly what happened to the teens who ended up haunted for months after messing with things they shouldn’t. Alaska was going to remain respectful and calm as she could possibly manage.

“Shh!” She said. “Be nice to her, we still don’t know what her deal is! Spirit, can you tell us your name?”

There was a moment of hesitation, in which the planchette didn’t move. Bianca opened her mouth again, ready to make some remark about being nice, and how it wouldn’t work after all, when it started to move.

“S-H-A-O-R-N.” Adore frowned. “Shaorn? Is that Irish?”

“It’s Sharon.” Alaska corrected her. “She must’ve just misspelt it, I imagine it’s hard to move a planchette when you’re a spirit. Hi, Sharon.”

Willam laughed. “Sharon doesn’t sound like the name of an eight year old girl from the 1920s. What gives? When did this bitch die?”

The planchette didn’t move.

“The fuck?!” Willam exclaimed. “Is she not responding to me anymore? Someone else ask her.”

Courtney repeated Willam’s question, her voice wobbling halfway through. Unexpectedly tender, Willam reached round to grasp her free hand.

“What the fuck? Not even Courtney? Alaska, you go.”

Some of Alaska’s initial fear started to fade. “Sharon, would you mind telling this nosy lot when you died?”

This time, there was barely a pause between the end of Alaska’s question to the moving of the planchette. It moved so fast that Alaska missed it, but thankfully Adore was taking her allocated role seriously – for the first time in her life.

“2-0-1-5.” She read. “Lucky bitch. You didn’t have to witness Trump getting elected.” Her gaze moved around the group. “2015.”

Willam held up a hand. “Hold up.” She started. “I’m still pissed. Is she only responding to Alaska now?! Spirit, Sharon, whatever the fuck you wanna be called, are you only responding to Alaska now?”

Nothing.

“Come ON!” Willam yelled frustratedly. Alaska winced.

“Are you only responding to me now?”

A clear ‘Yes’.

“Why?” Alaska pressed.

There was a pause again, as though Sharon were thinking. Then:

“P-R-E-T-T-Y.” Adore sounded confused. “Pretty. Pretty? How is that an answer?”

The planchette continued to move, picking up speed. A-L-A-S-K-A P-R-E-T-T-Y B-E-U-T-I-F-U-L.

Bianca smirked. “Catch that, blondie? Sharon thinks you’re pretty and beautiful. Spelt incorrectly, again.”

Alaska waved her away, blushing slightly, just as Willam muttered, “Sharon must be blind as well as dumb.”

They continued to ask questions, now intrigued by this Sharon they’d managed to get a hold of. Slowly but surely, even Courtney overcame her fear of the unknown, asking a few questions of their own. Together, they threw around question ideas and little quips that they wanted to know, conferring first before allowing Alaska to speak. Though others had tried, it seemed Sharon had no interest in replying to anyone else, but the others were happy to let Alaska speak for them if it meant their inquiries were addressed. Really, it was quite exciting.

Sharon was sixteen when she died, they found out – making her eighteen now, as she told them via planchette. Her favourite colour was mauve, she liked Return of the Living Dead and Death Becomes Her (hilariously fitting movies for a spirit), and she also had once owned cat, who she named as Cerrone. They also learned of her whereabouts, gleaning that she was actually buried in the town’s local graveyard, and had lived her life in Pittsburgh, only a short drive away.

Ever so often, Alaska would cease all interrogation, settling things with a simple ‘How are you?’ or ‘How are you feeling now?’ Sharon’s answers gradually became friendly, shifting from O-K-A-Y to G-O-O-D to H-A-P-PY to W-A-R-M. It was abundantly clear that she wasn’t an evil spirit, and came across as a teenager much like themselves. Chatting to her, Alaska found, was surprisingly fun. Her mind seemed to have tuned out the fact that their communication was via an old piece of séance equipment.

It helped that everyone had had a little bit more to drink than they had when they’d begun, too. That definitely helped.

“Sh-Sharon,” Alaska said, laughing at some joke Bianca had cracked earlier. “Tell us what you think of each of us. Start with Bianca.”

B-I-T-C-H.

“Bitch!” Adore squealed, slapping her friend on the arm. “Ha, Sharon thinks you’re a bitch!”

Bianca grinned, showing off too many white, wolfish teeth. “Sharon’s dead, I’m fucked if I care.”

“Adore.”

F-U-N.

Adore punched the air. “Party! I’ll take it, that’s cute!”

“Courtney?”

F-R-E-I-N-D-L-Y.

“Aw, thank you Sharon!” Courtney trilled. Alaska was thankful she had tact enough not to call out the obvious spelling mistake. Something she’d picked up on – although she wasn’t sure if the others had – was that when someone laughed at a mistake, Sharon took longer to respond. Whether she was upset, or angry, or just trying to spell everything correctly, Alaska didn’t know; it was pretty hard to convey emotions through a piece of wood. Nevertheless, Alaska made sure not to point them out.

“Willam.”

L-O-U-D.

Alaska cackled. “She’s not wrong, can’t deny it. What about me?”

S-T-U-N-N-I-N-G.

That had been another reoccurring theme throughout the night. Sharon, whoever she was, seemed fixated on Alaska. Something about her must’ve been compelling to the spirit, who continually called her pretty and complimented her whenever there was a chance. Sometimes, unprompted, the planchette would just move to spell out S-M-I-L-I-N-G, which Alaska guessed meant that she was happy. It made sense.

“Wait, Willam, she’s spelling something.” Adore interrupted Willam mid-anecdote. “H-A-N-G-O-U-T? Wait, hang out? She wants us to hang out?”

Bianca shook her head. “I say we stop this now. We can’t hang out with a fucking spirit, that’s too much.”

“I agree,” Courtney added, the shaky note added back into her voice. “What if – what if she ends up killing us all or something?! It is Halloween, you know!”

“I don’t wanna die!” Adore cried. “Are we gonna die?!”

Alaska tried to placate everybody. “Sharon’s not gonna kill us, guys, she’s been perfectly frie – ”

The planchette started to move, slow and deliberate. Sharon was making sure everyone could read her words perfectly.

F-U-C-K-Y-O-U.

“Well, shit.” Willam panicked. “Wait, why is the thing still moving? Why hasn’t it stopped by now? It usually stops now.”

At first, Alaska thought maybe a drunken hysteria had set in, and Sharon was simply spelling something else out that no one was taking the time to read. All too quickly, it became clear that the planchette was moving in a figure of eight. It started off slow, but was beginning to pick up speed.

“Court!” Willam rushed out. “Google this, I’m freaked.”

The planchette continued to make figures of eight as Courtney scrolled through her phone, her eyes wide with fear. “It, uh, um… here. A figure of eight indicates that the spirit is trying to escape the board –”

“Fuck! Shit shit shit shit shit shit fuck!” Willam cursed repeatedly. “We – we need to get rid of this thing. Let’s – uh, fuck – fucking throw it out of the window, I don’t care how old and antique it is.”

Alaska got to her feet as quick as she could to join her friends, each one having leapt up in terror at the idea of a spirit actually leaving the board. Even Alaska had chills, but she suppressed them as much as she could.

“C-Come on, guys, let’s see reason here –” She begged, tugging at random arms as she tried to gain everyone’s attention. “We can – we can just talk to Sharon, I’m sure everything will be fi-”

Instead of anyone agreeing with her, Alaska received a sharp slap across the face. Willam gasped, teary-eyed, and then instantly pulled Alaska into a tight hug.

“Shit, Alaska, I’m so sorry. You dumb bitch. We can’t talk to her anymore! She’s clearly angry and now she wants out to come fuck us all up! Your little flirting session has gotta end, she needs to go.”

Before Alaska could protest that it wasn’t a flirting session, it was a séance and it had been Willam’s idea in the first place, each of the girls had started scrabbling at the window, Willam teetering the board between a few fingers as though it would burn her if she touched it. For some reason, the urge to rescue the board swelled up inside Alaska, but she was powerless against the tight grasp that terror had on each of her friend’s hearts. In one swift push, the board toppled out of the window, and Alaska heard it land on the path underneath with a sharp crack.

There was a collective sigh of relief as the panic started to subside. Adore collapsed to the floor, her chest heaving, pulling Bianca down on top of her as she did so. Willam swung into one of the few chairs in the attic, clapping the light on once more, as Courtney stared down at her phone. Unlike the others, she didn’t seem in the least bit reassured.

“Uh… guys?” She spoke up, her voice quiet but still commanding everyone’s attention. “We shouldn’t have done that.”

Willam shook her head. “Of course we should. She’s gone, we’re safe.”

“No, listen.” Courtney explained. “I just read further… if the spirit is trying to escape, manually move the planchette to ‘Goodbye’ to end the séance. This is important, as if you do not manually end the séance, the portal will remain open. This leaves the spirit free to escape and can be extremely dangerous.”

Not a single person in the room breathed.

“The portal is still open.” Courtney finished.

“We didn’t close it.” Adore mumbled.

“Which means the bitch might already be out.” Bianca stated. “That’s what we’re all thinking. So, why don’t we all tramp downstairs in fucking follow-the-leader style, the way we did following that idiotic cunt Willam when she suggested this bullshit, and try to fucking end the séance we began. Hmm? Functioning brains, anyone?”

There weren’t any better ideas, so Bianca’s was the one they went with. It was nearly two in the morning now, the biting autumn wind even worse than it had been before. Every step around Willam’s front garden was horrific, the wet grass and severe chill coupled with the fear that they wouldn’t be able to close the portal, and Sharon – as well as any other spirits that may have been waiting for a turn – would get out. Unfortunately, there was something holding them all up.

“Where the fuck is the planchette?”

The little device was nowhere to be found. Between them, the girls combed every inch of the garden, rooting through surrounding bushes, looking through the grass, even wobbling dangerously on each other’s shoulders so that Courtney could check the branches in the tree to see if it had snagged. Nothing turned up. The planchette was truly missing.

“If we can’t find the planchette, we can’t close the portal and – and –” Courtney wailed, the toxic combination of alcohol and fear affecting her in the worst way possible. Alaska hugged her briefly before Willam took over comforting, her mind racing as she tried to think of a solution.

“There must be something we can do without a planchette…” She thought out loud.

Willam coughed obnoxiously. “Uh, Alaska? Newsflash, you need a planchette for a Ouija board. And now we don’t have one.”

“I know that!” Alaska snapped. “I just…”

Suddenly, an idea struck. Sure, it wasn’t good, but it was the best one they’d got.

“Is anyone here sober?”

Bianca raised her hand.

“Can you drive?”

She nodded.

“Perfect.”

Alaska rubbed her hands together, eyeing the group with what she hoped was a confidence that she definitely didn’t have. “We’re going on a field trip to the cemetery.”

Willam seemed even more perplexed. “The fucking cemetery? What? We’ve just freed a bunch of fucking spirits, let’s go ahead and free some more! Fuck, let’s wake ‘em all up! Jesus’ll be next!”

But Bianca was nodding, clearly seeing where Alaska was coming from. Grateful, she allowed the older girl to explain.

“I get her.” She agreed. “Maybe if we find Sharon’s grave, we can end the séance there. No planchette, but I assume headstones have some sort of significance in communicating to the undead, right?”

It was worth a shot.

-

Thankfully, the cemetery wasn’t far, and the streets were empty so late at night. Trick-or-treaters had long gone home, and the toilet-paper terrorism of any pranksters had already been completed. Bianca drove fast and with a purpose, her eyes never leaving the road, one hand resting on Adore’s thigh. Alaska was squashed into the back of the car, praying her idea would work. She wasn’t worried about Sharon escaping, not by a long shot, but it was the others that concerned her. If there were other, eviller spirits waiting in line, she didn’t want to know what havoc they would wreak if they got out. It felt like a race against time.

Once they arrived, everyone split up. Well, that was a lie. Bianca paired off with Adore, who was proving to be somewhat of a useless partner, given that she was a tired drunk and had managed to nap in the ten minute drive it took them to reach the cemetery. Willam and Courtney were a given, the two slim blondes clinging to one another as they began to search through headstones together. That left Alaska alone, cold, and mentally cursing Alyssa for bolting right when she would’ve been useful.

Still, she had a task at hand. Reasoning that the newer graves would probably be the one at the back – surely churches would bury from the front of the yard to the back? – she set off towards the back, with only the light of the moon to guide her. The atmosphere was spooky, a stark change to the one of controlled haunting that had lingered in Willam’s attic once the lights had turned off.

Finally, after scouring every grave at the back, Alaska had to give up. “Guys! I got nothing, you?”

“Nope!” Came Bianca’s response.

“Not a single Sharon.” Came Willam’s.

They regrouped in the centre, stumped as to what action they needed to take next. Alaska’s heart sank, but she couldn’t understand why.

“She… she said it was this cemetery, specifically. I wonder…?”

“Boo!”

Alaska jumped back and screamed, feeling a hand on her shoulder. She noticed each of her friends do the same, Adore shrieking so much that she stumbled backwards and ended up tripping over a grave, landing on her ass in the dirt. Bianca hurried to pull her up, each of them rattled.

“What the fuck was tha-” Willam began, before her face went as white as a ghost. “Um… Alaska…”

Alaska turned, jumping out of her skin once again as she made eye contact with the figure stood behind her. As she screamed, the figure screamed too, her eyes wide and frightened.

“W-Why are we screaming?! I don’t like screaming!” The figure said, regarding the group with earnest eyes. “I scared you, didn’t I?”

Alaska swallowed her fear. “Who – who are you?”

The figure’s face brightened considerably. She smiled, showing off a gap in her front teeth and painted lips, a dimple forming in her left cheek. “I’m Sharon Needles! We spoke earlier!”

Allowing herself to take in Sharon’s appearance, Alaska waited a moment before responding. She wasn’t floating, as Alaska would’ve expected, but rather standing on the ground the way they would. For the most part she appeared regularly human, other than the slight discrepancy of her entire corporeal form seeming to be composed of some sort of silvery light. Her hair was white, cascading down her back, and Alaska’s eyes were drawn to striking details like the sharpness of her cheekbones and the cleft of her chin. Her clothes seemed pretty regular too – a spiked leather jacket, band t-shirt and ripped jeans. Nothing spectral or unusual about it.

“You’re Sharon!”

“Yeah!” She beamed. “I know you’re Alaska. You’re even prettier in person! You look like you’re straight out of a mazagine.”

Alaska laughed softly. “Magazine.”

“Huh?” Sharon pulled a confused face. “Oh. Right. Yeah. That. But for the record, you – ”

Sharon turned, focusing her gaze on Bianca. Alaska was a bit disappointed to have those jewel-like eyes away from her. “I’m not an idiot. I just can’t talk and spell as effortlele- effortle – as well as you can.”

Bianca smiled, seemingly regaining some sense after the initial shock. “Sure you can. Can I ask you something, or are you still only responding to Miss Alaska?”

It was hard to tell, considering all of Sharon was one colour, but Alaska was positive from her darkened cheeks that the spirit was blushing.

“I’ll answer. I only responded to Lasky because she was nice to me, and nobody else was nice to me.”

Lasky. Alaska smiled involuntarily at the nickname. Cute.

Bianca seemed to hesitate before just pressing forward. “You said you were buried here, how come we didn’t find you?”

Sharon bit her lip, and then let out a silly laugh. “You weren’t looking in the right place. I’m in the west corner, I’ll show you.”

She offered Alaska her hand, which she accepted without thinking, and followed the spirit across the cemetery. The rest of the girls still seemed to be in somewhat of a daze, following whilst not particularly sure what was happening. Sharon stopped and knelt down in front of a particularly ordinary grave, standing out only due to the fresh bouquet of roses that was laid in front of it. She picked one of them up, holding it to her chest in a moment of tenderness.

“Sharon Needles,” She read. “28th November to 31st October. Beloved by all who knew her.”

When she turned, revealing a glimpse of her face that had previously been hidden by a sheath of glossy hair, Alaska saw that there were tears in her eyes. Instinctively, she knelt down beside her, wrapping an arm around her.

“I can’t believe I died,” She began, and then chuckled weakly. “Doesn’t that suck? My favourite holiday!”

Alaska felt tears gracing her own eyes, but blinked them back as best as she could. “What happened?”

Her voice was impossibly soft. At her words, she felt Sharon lean closer into her embrace.

“I was stupid. We all drank too much one Halloween and my friend was driving us home. And, well…”

She trailed off, motioning a fist slamming into the palm of her hand. “Car crash. No seatbelts. I went straight through the front window.”

“Shit.” Alaska murmured, hearing Willam do the same. “I’m so sorry.”

Sharon got to her feet, shaking her head and smiling dumbly once more. “Eh. Miminal emotional damage.”

Alaska grinned affectionately at her mispronouncing a word yet again.

“At the very least, I taught some nice ladies a lesson about drink driving and seatbelt usage.” She plucked another fresh rose from the bouquet. “And I gave a flower to a beautiful girl. Retroactively completing my bucket list.”

Sharon’s fingers were trembling slightly as she caressed Alaska’s face, tucking the rose into her hair and beaming sweetly at her handiwork.

“You… wow. You’re so pretty, I could come back to life.”

Alaska laughed. Was that her version of ‘you’re so pretty I could die’? The sentiment behind it was heartwarming.

“You’re gorgeous too, don’t doubt it.” She told Sharon in response, brushing a curl of hair out of her face.

Bianca tapped Alaska on the shoulder. “I hate to break up your impromptu date, but we should get back before we’re arrested for loitering in a graveyard at two forty in the morning. Not a good look on your CV.”

“You’re right…”

“Wait!” Sharon called, just as Alaska turned her back. “Before you go. I don’t know if I’ll get to see you again in person, I don’t know how any of this works, but I just want to – ”

And all of a sudden they were kissing, and Alaska’s hands were entwined with Sharon’s, and every good feeling the earth could exude was flowing through Alaska’s veins. She felt as though she could float, the drunken cheering of Willam and Adore a distant sound in the roaring of her head. All she could hear, all she could think of, was Sharon Sharon Sharon.

When they finally broke apart, Sharon squeezed her tight. “You’re so beautiful. I hope you all had a fun Halloween.”

It wasn’t much of a goodbye, but Alaska was okay with that. She didn’t think she could handle a goodbye.

Before she knew it, she was being tugged away by her friends, Bianca leading the troop back to where her car was parked, just outside the cemetery gates. The entire journey back to the car, Alaska’s eyes remained on Sharon, who was stood still, waving at them all as they disappeared into the night.

“How can I talk to you?!” Alaska yelled spontaneously, just as she was shoved into the car besides Willam. The girls had taken to pushing her along, finding it to be easier.

It was hard to tell, but Sharon appeared to be grinning. “Call me on the Ouija board!” She yelled back. “It’s 2017, you can fucking print one! Even I can use a printer!”

Then Bianca started the engine of the car, and they were gone.


End file.
